Discovering Annie
by uniqueordinary
Summary: Everyone knows about the love of the inseparable Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta from District 4. But when did they meet, and how did their love come to be? "Discovering Annie" is a Hunger Games fanfiction piece that takes place during the 70th Hunger Games. More chapters to come! Rated Teen for violence, adult language, and suggestive material.
1. Chapter One: Meeting Annie

"So I'll take the girl again and you the boy, right?" Eura says under her breath from beside me.

I'm so focused on the stream of children filing in below the steps of the stage that I almost miss her words. Toward the front, a young girl in a floral skirt latches onto a tiny boy, her pale lips quivering as they break off and find their respective places alongside other children behind lined ropes. To think that only five years ago, that was me.

"Finnick," Eura says again, sucking in air between her teeth and sitting up straighter in her chair. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," I say. "I just don't understand why it always has to be us that's doing the mentoring. Every year, it's just you and me and Mags while _they_ show up and spend their time drinking and conversing like it's a holiday party and not a stage show for a massacre." I nod my head toward the line of victors seated beside us on stage, each one laughing and whispering and pointing into the crowd, except for the tiny gray-haired woman who sits quietly at the end.

"Watch your tongue," Eura says. "You're young, Finnick, and you still have much to learn about the way things work around here. This is only your fifth year mentoring of many more years to come, and the Capitol has expectations for us both."

I turn to Eura, examining her choppy blond hair and the dark circles under her bright eyes, and I wonder for the first time if she's been forced to sell herself, too. She's in her later twenties, that much I know, and I can't help but wonder if that's going to be myself ten years from now. A lump forms in my throat. At nineteen years old, I already feel I've lived a lifetime of servitude.

The feedback of the microphone and the start of percussions indicate the start of the reaping, and the District 4 town square goes quiet.

"So, you the boy and I the girl?" Eura whispers as we both turn forward.

In response, I only give a slight nod.

The mayor gives the usual welcome to the 70th Hunger Games. When he introduces the victors and I feel the burn of a staring camera, I slip on a flirtatious smile and wink straight into the lens. The thought of a thousand Capitol girls shrieking at their televised screens makes my stomach turn, but I know my part well.

Then, as is tradition, they pull the name of the girl tribute first. I try not to think of the little girl with the floral skirt.

"_Annie Cresta._"

As usual, there is a mix of sighs and gasps in the mass of girls, and it takes a few moments before the crowd shifts and an isolated bubble forms around a lovely young woman with wavy, dark hair in the sixteen year-old group. Neither Annie Cresta's name nor her face ring a bell, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch her face contort into an expression of terror and disbelief. But just as quickly as it's there, the expression is gone and her face unreadable as she emerges from the crowd and walks forward. I hold my breath for the chance that someone will volunteer to take her place, but there is only silence as she mounts the stage in a green dress that matches her eyes. The way she stands straight as she overlooks the crowd intrigues me; she's trying to be brave.

"_Drift Talloway_."

I'm so distracted by the girl tribute that I almost miss the name of the male tribute I am to mentor. Just like with Annie, no one volunteers to take the place of the seventeen year-old boy with light brown hair and hard, focused eyes. Eura sighs from beside me.

"At least they're not twelve year-olds," she mumbles. "Those are the worst."

"But no volunteers this year, just like the last," I say. "I'm becoming increasingly more unconvinced that 4 is a Career district."

Eura says nothing in response. After the ceremony, we're led into the Justice Building and made to sit until the tributes have a chance to say goodbye to their family and friends. I find myself eyeing the door to the room the girl, Annie, is in, wondering if she is still staying strong or if we'll find her emerge in a tear-filled mess.

Not that I care that much, anyway.

I never know, though, because soon after that all the victors are rushed onto the train to make sure we're on schedule to leave the moment the tributes are done with their goodbyes. I take a seat on a velvet couch next to Mags, who looks to be lost in a very deep thought, and I pull her into a one armed hug. It's not until we're given word minutes later that the tributes have boarded that the train slumps forward and quickly begins to pick up speed.

"Showtime," Eura says under her breath as the door to the train car slides open.

Drift walks in first, his hands fisted at his side, and Annie falls in soon after. I hastily separate myself from Mags and stand, each step closer to the two tributes serving as a reminder that more than likely I'll watch both teens die within the next two weeks regardless of whatever help I offer them, and just like that the sweet and slimy mask of my alter ego falls over my face.

"Hello, Drift," I say with a half smile. "Finnick Odair, though I'm sure you know that from previous introductions. Looks like you get the pleasure of working with me as your mentor." I ignore his incredulous snort of laughter and turn to Annie, locking eyes with her for the first time and just now realizing the exotic sprinkling of light freckles across her nose. "And you, Annie, unfortunately are not quite so lucky; you'll be working with Eura here, though I'll deeply regret the missed opportunity."

I'm not sure what reaction to expect from her; perhaps dramatic disgust like some of the other tributes, or maybe a goofy smile and flustered look like the sort of girls who fall for my act. What I'm certainly not expecting from her is a calm, serious smile, and quizzical eyes that squint and examine me in a way that translates a clear message: _I'm not buying your act_.

"Nice to meet you, Finnick," she says, her voice light and professional for such a young age. "I'm sure the missed opportunity will be mutually regretted. Now if you'll excuse me..." Her voice fades as she breaks eye contact and works her way around me toward Eura without glancing back.

I can't help but turn and watch her in puzzlement as she walks up to a surprised Eura and shakes her hand. In the past five years since my winning of the Hunger Games, never once has anyone given me a look like that before, like they can see past the molded mask and read all my secrets, and maybe even have the capability understand where I come from and not judge me for it. It feels like I'd been screaming for help into an empty chasm, and finally someone has heard me and shouted back, _"I can hear you; I know you're in there_." Maybe it was only my imagination, but I have to find out.

Later that night I find Eura sitting in an arm chair and running a hand through her hair as she reads a book. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my back and walk up to her, urging the words out of my mouth.

"I want to trade tributes with you," I say in a rush.

Eura looks up and slowly shuts her book before leaning her cheek into her propped up arm, her eyebrow shooting skyward as she eyes me. "What did you just say?"

"I said I want to switch tributes with you. You take Drift and I'll take Annie."

"Why do you want Annie?"

"Does it really matter to you?" I snap. It's then in that moment that I look closer at Eura's expression and I realize: of course she's never been forced to sell herself to the Capitol. She sees me as the others do, a young man crazed by a lust for arrogance and women. The concern lining her furrowed eyebrows has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Annie's wellbeing, as if _I _were the one throwing her into the Games. A sudden pang of loneliness eats away at my gut.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, looking downward and momentarily shutting my eyes. "It's not what you think, okay? I just want to talk with her... and I think we'd work well together, maybe increase her chances of winning. With Drift I may as well be a brick wall for all the attention and respect that boy will pay me. It'll do him no good in the arena."

When I look up, Eura is carefully studying me with pursed lips. She's known me long enough; she _must_ see that at the very least I don't like watching both our tributes die year after year. She'll know that I'm right about Drift, anyway. There's a long period of silence between us that's filled only by the clinking of crystals on the chandelier.

"Fine," she says suddenly, so quiet she's barely audible. "We'll trade. You take Annie and I'll take Drift starting tomorrow."

I give a swift nod and exit the room before she has the chance to change her mind.

...

Shortly before our arrival to the Capitol the next morning, I find Annie spreading jam over a piece of toast in the eating quarters. Her dark hair is now pulled back in a low-hanging ponytail, and she seems to be carefully examining the vibrant color of the flowers on the dining table. I walk in and pull a chair out next to hers, casually falling back into my seat.

"Good news, Cresta," I say with a wicked smile. "Change of plans; I'm now going to be your mentor."

She turns suddenly and stops mid-chew with toast in hand, raising her eyebrows at me. She then tilts her head in a quizzical manner and swallows.

"Wow, _Odair_," she says, biting on each syllable of my last name with a smug smile. "And how did I come to receive this honor?"

I shrug. "Maybe I wanted to work with you," I say quietly, leaning closer toward her. "Maybe there's something about you that I like." That's probably laying on the charm a little too thick, but still I watch carefully for any kind of dramatic change in her expression. She only takes another bite of her toast and slowly rises up from her seat.

"Okay," she says with a sigh, as if more exhausted by my comment than anything. "Here's the thing. My chances in the Games are slim, especially if I don't receive any help from a mentor, so if you ever decide to move on from only 'liking something about me' and actually want to feed up some advice, you know where I can be found."

And just like that, she's through the train car door and gone, toast and all.


	2. Chapter Two: Arriving at the Capitol

Mags finds me after we've exited the train.

As usual, I held the proper persona: waving and winking at screaming Capitol girls, kissing hands, and flashing a million dollar smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annie and Drift exit the train while holding a quiet conversation, neither one looking at me as they pass into the hands of their new designers and flamboyant prep teams.

When Mags finds me, I'm inside the lobby of the training center sitting in a chair and fumbling with a colorful flower thrown to me from the crowd. She lends me a small smile, but it's obvious from the way her eyes turn downward that she senses something is wrong. A grandmother's concern. Her tilted head asks a question.

"I'm fine, Mags," I say, rubbing the back of my neck and looking downward with a short laugh. "I think I just really messed up on something, is all." _Imagine that: the famous Finnick Odair messing up._

Her warm, aged hand lightly cups my cheek and pulls my head upward. I look into my previous mentor's wrinkled eyes, and as much as I hate the thought, I can't help but wonder how on Earth a woman like this could have ever killed a human being. She brings down her hand and raises a small finger to point toward a camera crew sitting in the distance. _Don't let the cameras see_, she's saying.

I sit up straighter and try to mirror her smile. Mags nods once with a firm look of approval and brushes my shoulder with her hand before turning and walking away. She is right, of course. Tonight is the tribute parade, and everyone will be expecting the famous Finnick Odair to be all smiles and seduction as he takes his seat alongside this year's mentors.

I try to remind myself that at least no one can buy me out during Hunger Games week; apparently my mentoring duties are the only thing in President Snow's mind to take priority over my being slaved. It's sickening to think the trade-off comes at the price of the probable death of Annie and Drift.

Annie. I'm thinking about her again, and about our conversation from earlier that morning. The exhausted look she gave me... it was like she felt I was making fun of her with my manner. She has to see that that wasn't at all my intention, that I was only wanting to find out more about the way her mind works. Instead of that, I've mocked her only chance at survival. And yet she wasn't angry, only tired, as if I were a little kid who couldn't help the way I was acting toward her. I'm about to stick my head in my hands when I catch the camera crew in my peripheral vision and sigh. It's going to be a long day.

...

"Places, everyone. Places!"

Eura and I walk into the underpass where the colorful array of this year's tributes are gathered near their horse-drawn chariots preparing for the Tribute Parade. The children and teens who flood the floor are adorned in outfits made of various sparkly fabrics and material including wires, metals, and jewels.

"I can only just remember what my Tribute Parade was like," Eura says with a dramatic shiver. "What awful, tacky outfits. Thank God neither of us ever have to do that again, right?"

I don't respond, though, because when I turn to my right I see Annie Cresta stroking the horse attached to her chariot, and she most definitely doesn't look tacky. The dress that flows down to her ankles is a shimmery blue like the ocean at noon with a translucent outer layer wrapping around her arms, giving the illusion of layered waves of water. Her dark brown hair hangs in shiny loose ringlets that are neither too messy to be natural nor too perfect to look strange. The designer must have been going for the effect of a beautiful sea goddess, and it worked.

I break off from Eura without a word of departure and walk closer to Annie, noticing that she's holding up one hand to the horses mouth. She turns as I approach and gives me a small smile.

"Want a sugar cube?" she says, pulling back her hand from the horse to reveal tiny white and grainy squares. "The horses love them."

"As do I," I say, snatching one of the cubes from her hand and plopping it into my mouth with a crunch.

She only gives a slight roll of the eyes. Up close, I can see she's wearing shimmery makeup, and her dark green irises illuminate despite all the blue.

"Annie?" I say, my tone deeper and more focused. "I just want you to know that I do take my mentoring seriously, and I never wanted you to think I don't. From now on, it will be full focus on prepping for the Games, I promise."

She wrinkles her nose, narrows her eyes and studies me. It's that same look, the look that strips away whatever bit of fake confidence I have left and leaves me naked in my own insecurities. But then it's gone and her smile grows bigger as she says, "Thank you. I'd really like that."

I watch as she mounts the chariot and adjusts the flowing fabric of her dress. She catches me staring and grins.

"Better go find your seat, Odair," she says. "All of Panem is waiting to see you, and I can't have a mentor slacking around on his duties."

I'm about to give a clever reply, but my voice is drowned out as music begins playing and Drift mounts the chariot. I decide to give a small wave, and then I turn to find the other victors.

...

Thousands upon thousands of people are staring at me and shouting my name during the Tribute Parade. Cameras focus on me from time to time and I think at one point they even introduce me.

Yet all of the Tribute Parade, I am only looking at her. It's at that moment that I come to the scary realization that I think she's beautiful.

What's scariest of all is that I'm not entirely sure what that means.


	3. Chapter Three: Training Day

All tributes are to report to the Training Center bright and early the next day, meaning I get the morning to myself. Unfortunately, there's not much to do in the Capitol where every single movement you make is being watched by either citizens, President Snow, or camera crews, so I resort to staying in and playing cards with Eura. I think we both enjoy the distraction, because although neither one of us says it aloud, being in the Training Center brings back haunting memories. I can't even recall the last time I picked up a trident, let alone wielded one. All I can think about is the three sharp metal points of the trident sent to me in the arena, the slick curve of the blades and how easily they cut into human flesh when thrown at just the right angle...

"Finnick."

Eura's voice pulls me back to the cool, marble surface of the table in front of me where cards lay scattered in various piles. I don't apologize; I only turn my attention back to the game and carefully place down another card as if never distracted. Eura doesn't ask any questions.

I make sure to be waiting outside the Training Room when Annie finishes her session. There's no denying that I've been bored all day and that the idea of seeing her ignites some part of me, but I also know that time is imperative and we must get to work prepping for the Games. There's an intense, burning feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me I can't disappoint her, not after that promise I made. No, we'll give her a real fighting chance in that arena.

When she finally emerges with the other tributes, Drift is at her side. They both are wearing matching maroon athletic wear, and Annie's hair is pulled back. When she sees me, her face lights up. God knows why that girl's face is lighting up when she's in a situation like this, but still there she is, breaking off from Drift and walking toward me grinning.

"Hello, Odair," she says.

"Ah, so I see we're still on a last name basis, then."

She shrugs. "I figured you already get to hear your first name enough on a daily basis."

I'm starting to really like Annie Cresta.

I know she wants to get down to business, though, so I press an arm to her back and quickly guide her back to the District 4 living quarters to discuss strategy. On the main couch, she curls up in a ball and holds a pillow close to her chest. I sit across from her to give her plenty of space.

"Okay, so first things first: allies. Obviously, 4 is a Career district, so if you want in with the Careers then you're in. No questions asked."

She pauses and stares downward while considering her options, and for some reason I just want her to feel comforted, so I decide to lean forward and add more quietly, "There always comes a time when Careers break off, and they can be ruthless, yes, but it can also be very advantageous to ride with their pack until numbers dwindle. It's a good way to guarantee you make it to at least the last eight to ten tributes."

At these words, Annie meets my eyes and gives a firm nod and a small smile. "If Drift is joining the Careers, then I will, too. I think I'll feel safer that way."

There's something about the way she says it, though, like she's only giving half her heart to the conversation. I try to brush it off.

"Okay," I say. "Good, that can definitely be arranged. Now, what about talents. Those Gamemakers are gonna want to see talent, so what can you do?"

Once again she pauses. "I'm a great swimmer."

"Ah," I say, rubbing my chin. "Well unfortunately, there are no pools in the training center. But that's good; it could come in handy in the arena. What else?"

It's only when she begins to pick at the hemming of the pillow in silence that I realize we're in trouble.

"Is there anything else? There must be something, anything you found you were good at in the Training Room," I say.

"Well, I'm an excellent fisher when I have a net. But I have no idea how to build one, or build much of anything for that matter." She slowly lifts the pillow closer to her mouth, as if trying to hide from the thought that her talents are minimal. Once again, I feel the need to comfort her.

"That's no problem," I say. "I can show you how to build nets, weave grasses, tie knots, all kinds of stuff. I think I even brought some rope with me..."

"No, that really isn't necessary," she starts to say, waving me back from standing up off the couch. "I don't even think that's allowed, is it? Really, don't bother."

"No, no it's fine, really," I assure.

Retrieving some rope that I use for knotting practice when bored, I sit on the couch next to Annie and walk her through several knotting techniques, then explain to her in the abstract how to build baskets out of grasses and turn knots into nets. She watches on and nods occasionally, though sometimes her smile comes across a little forced, and it can't cover the underlying sadness in her eyes.

"Wow," she says simply at one point.

"What is it?"

"Just... this is how you won the Games, huh? Being good at this stuff?"

This catches me off guard. I never expected her to bring up my Games, but now that I think about it, it's true that the only reason I won was because I could build a mean net at age fourteen. Otherwise I'd have no way of hunting down and spearing the other tributes. The thought makes me cringe.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I say.

She bites her lip, and in the silence I wonder if the conversation has ended, but then she asks, "What is it like? Killing someone?"

Again I'm caught off guard by her question, and I'm immediately drawn back into my memories to the time when the netting of my trap wasn't thick enough to conceal the young fearful eyes of the tribute held within. Which District was that tribute from? What was her name? I can't even remember now. She was speared all the same, just like the others.

"It changes you," I say simply. "You're never the same afterward."

"Would you do it again?" she asks.

Well, I guess there's no point in lying now.

"If it came down to it, yes. Yes, I would."

She doesn't say anything or turn judgmental; she only nods and stares off into the distance. What I'd give to know what she is thinking right now, and, as much as I want to deny it, what she thinks of _me_. It's a ridiculous thought, especially when I remind myself that there's a good chance that Annie will eventually just be another tribute whose face is projected into the arena sky. Suddenly, the thought makes me more uncomfortable than ever in my five years of mentoring.

"I'll make sure to discuss with the other mentors about ally negotiations tomorrow," I say stiffly. "In the meantime, make sure to eat plenty at dinner. You need to build up your nutrient intake for the arena."

Annie nods, but doesn't break her distant stare. I take that as my cue to leave.

Annie's quiet the rest of the night.

Through dinner and dessert, she doesn't say a word or look at me once. As soon as the plates are collected, she's in her room with the door shut. I have to fight back the urge to go knocking, continuously self-reinforcing that that isn't something mentors do.

No one else acknowledges anything wrong. It's only me.


	4. Chapter Four: Confrontation

"So what's up with you and Annie?"

I look up from my fan of cards to Eura's face , my mouth noticeably gaping open. She stares back at me in a casual manner with expressionless eyes, as if she just asked what I thought of today's weather. We have played in silence up until now, and I'm sure my surprise shows. Quickly, I shut my mouth and shake my head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, really, Finnick. Anyone could see the way you were eyeing her at dinner last night." After a slight pause, Eura's eyes narrow and her nose scrunches up as if she's smelt something putrid. "Are you _harassing_ h―"

"_God, _no!" I snap. More than anything, I want to throw myself across the glossy table and grab Eura's shoulders and shake her, screaming in her face, _"If you knew the real me, you'd know I'm not like that!_" But because anyone could be watching us, I instead bite my tongue and stare intently into my hand of cards. "She's my tribute," I say moments later with an off-handed shrug. "I want her to have a descent shot at winning."

When I do look back at Eura, she's examining me with softer eyes and a frown. She looks particularly tired in that moment, the skin of her face sagging like a wax statue morphed by a hot day. She sighs and lays her cards flat on the table.

"Finnick, Annie doesn't want to win the Games."

"What?" I say. "Of course she does."

My response makes Eura flinch, her face contorting in discomfort.

"Oh come on," she says. "Don't you see the way she acts around here? Distant, like her mind isn't even in the Games, or how she often smiles sadly like we're of no use to her because in her mind, she's going to die anyway? That's a girl who's given up and made peace with her impending death, and when someone decides to give up at this stage of the Games, there's no way of saving them."

The blood rushes out of my head and I suddenly feel light headed, thinking back to the many times Annie looked at me sadly, almost condescendingly, when I tried to help her prep for the Games.

"No," I whisper. "No, you're wrong about her. You couldn't possibly know that."

"How long do you think I've been a mentor here? I've seen it many times before, and this time is no different." She shakes her head and leans forward. "You're so blinded by whatever fascination you have with her that you refuse to see it."

My knuckles turn white as my grip on the cards tighten, and I feel my tongue going dry.

"She asked for my help. She agreed to let me help her," I say weakly.

"Well, of course no one is going to make a show of giving up. It's possible she's not even fully conscious of it. But actions speak louder than words, and Drift told me how she spent all day yesterday in the Training Center walking aimlessly around speaking to no one until he finally convinced her to try out someth―"

"You're wrong." I make clear in my tone that I'm done discussing the matter.

Eura looks at me as if I'm a squirming, suffocating fish that she wants to put out of misery. She lifts herself up from the table and walks close to me, lowering her voice to a haunting whisper.

"If you want to be a blind dumbass," she hisses, "fine, go right ahead. Just know that come a week's time you _will_ hear that girl's cannon fire, and there is nothing you or I can do about it, so try not to look too hurt when I get to tell you I told you so."

Eura flicks aside a choppy piece of her hair and turns, walking away and leaving me and the scattered cards alone at the table.

"I won't be picking up the pieces, either," she calls out over her shoulder, holding her index finger up in the air. "Cleaning other people's messes isn't my thing."

...

I pace the hall near the entrance to the Training Room while every so often eyeing the clock. 3:58 p.m. In two minutes, all the tributes will flood the hallway including Annie. I haven't spoken a word to her since our conversation yesterday, and I can't help but wonder whether she'll completely ignore me when she sees me, or if her face will light up with a smile. At the moment, the idea of either reaction infuriates me.

Adrenaline pumps through my body at high speed as I pace and turn, pace and turn, watching for the moment that the heavy steel doors slide open. All I hear are Eura's words echoing in my ear like a high pitched buzz. _You _will_ hear that girl's cannon fire._

I've watched the deaths of all the tributes that preceded Annie within my time of mentoring. I've heard all their cannons fire, watched all of their families sob as their bodies were delivered in flimsy cardboard boxes. Never did I shed a tear or feel much of anything in any of those moments. And yet for some reason, the thought of hearing the piercing bang alongside the projection of Annie's face on the arena sky makes my heart contract. And I feel betrayed because of it, because Annie let me believe she had a fighting chance, because she did whatever it was she did that made part of me open up to her. I don't want to see her die, and yet she probably will. I'm powerless. The blood under my skin begins to simmer and my thoughts become clouded with heavy steam as I continue to pace.

Finally, there's the sound of compressed air as the doors to the Training Room pull back to reveal a hive of tributes buzzing with chatter. I step back and watch, hands clasped behind my back, as each person dribbles out of the doorway. And then I see her, Annie Cresta, with flushed cheeks and a few stray pieces of dark hair strewn across her face. Her green eyes meet mine and she lends a small smile that I don't return. Both her and Drift make their way over to me.

"How did training go?" I ask coolly, keeping my chin high and looking downward at Annie.

"Oh, it went well," she answers slowly, almost unsurely, as she eyes my expression. "I learned tons, and even used some of what you taught me at the roping station. It was a really productive day."

"Was it really? Are you sure about that?" I snap. "And you always use your time wisely, I'm sure. I know you'd never neglect such a crucial opportunity to train."

Annie's face pales, and she's quiet. Drift, however, must be as much of an idiot as I thought because he doesn't seem to grasp my tone and says, "Aw man, you should'a seen Annie in the knife-throwing station today; she was on fire, hitting the target every t―"

"I don't recall talking to you, Drift, or being your mentor, for that matter," I snarl, eyeing down the boy even though we are about level in height.

"Excuse me?" he says.

"Finnick..." Annie tries to interject.

"No worries, you're already excused." I can't help but flash a smile as Drift's face begins to contort in anger. "I'm sure someone somewhere is looking for you, so run along now, kid. I have important, life-saving matters to discuss with my tribute."

Dead silence follows. Drift's jaw locks and he takes a step closer to me, lowering his voice to an almost whisper. "So this is how the famous Capitol-sweetheart Finnick Odair earns his lovers," he says, his breath in my face. "By being an arrogant dick."

"Well, this dick still gets more women than you'll ever see in your short life," I say with a wink, my smile widening. "Tell me, Drift, how does it feel knowing you're going to die alone in that arena? No beautiful Capitol girls to weep over you, not even a girl back home to miss you in your absence... save your mother, maybe, although that's surely debatable."

Drift swings a meaty fist at my face, but I catch it mid-air and stop it in its track while clicking my tongue in a _tsk_. I twist downward at the wrist and Drift lets out a howl of pain as he crumples to the floor.

"_Finnick!"_ Annie screeches, reaching for my arm. I take a step back from her to avoid her grasp, keeping my eyes on Drift.

"He will be fine; I didn't break anything, he's just weak," I say. "Get _up!_"

Annie falls to her knees and places a hand gingerly along Drift's wrist, helping him off the floor. "You should go find Eura," she says through gritted teeth. "I need to speak with my mentor."

Drift nods and walks away without another word, holding his wrist with his opposite hand and peering back over his shoulder every few steps with wide eyes full of terror. The hallway is now swallowed in eerie silence, Annie and I being the only ones left after today's session.

"What the _hell_ was that, Odair?" Annie hisses, taking a step closer to me with eyes ablaze.

"My patience with him was growing thin. The kid needed a lesson."

"Drift is my _friend_." She places her fingertips to her temples and shuts her eyes momentarily. "And what's all this sudden talk about 'kids?' You treat Drift like a boy when you're only two years older than him, like that makes you above him or something."

My emotions feed off the frustration that is finally peeking through in Annie's personality. I crave her anger, her hatred. I _need_ it.

"No, honey," I whisper condescendingly with a smile. "What makes me above him is that I won the Hunger Games, and therefore both my wisdom and my brawn are beyond my years."

"Wisdom? Brawn? You _killed_ people, that's all you did!" Her voice breaks on the word "killed" and her pink lower lip quivers slightly. "Please, Finnick, stop doing this... this isn't you..."

Her last words are like slashes in my flesh. "At least that's more than you can say. Yes, I killed people in order to survive. Not just people, but innocent children. You know why? Because I'm not a quitter. Can you say the same thing about yourself, Annie? Are you a quitter?"

Only silence fills the void made by my question, so I continue.

"And guess what? I would do it all again, just like I told you yesterday. _This_ is the real me and I'm sorry if that doesn't meet to your likings, but I'm not looking to impress you or anyone else."

And because I don't think I can stand looking at her shocked eyes and quivering lip any longer, I turn away from Annie and begin to walk toward the elevator without another word.

"Wait, no," she calls out from behind me, her voice stronger and louder than before. "We're not done talking yet. You are my mentor; you do _not_ just get to walk away."

I snort without turning back. "Watch me."

The elevator doors slide open the moment I slam the "down" button and I quickly get on, only then realizing the sound of light steps that trail behind me. When I turn, there's none other than Annie Cresta beside me on the elevator, standing a full half foot shorter than me and yet still incredibly terrifying with her locked jaw and glossy narrowed eyes. She waits for the doors to close before speaking, and when she does, her voice is haunting.

"You may have the Capitol and Drift and everyone else believing this persona you put forward, but you aren't fooling me," she says. "There's a part of you these cameras aren't seeing. It's in the discomfort that flashes in your eyes when Capitol girls scream your name, it's in the faltering of your smile at public events... I don't know why you can't say it out loud, but it's there."

And for some reason, in that moment I'm not thinking about Drift or President Snow or whether or not the elevators are wired. All I can think about is how I was right from the beginning, how Annie saw something in me that no one else saw before. I look down into her glassy eyes and a wave of crushing relief falls over me, and for some insane reason I have the urge to touch her cheek.

Suddenly the doors open on the District 4 flat and just like that, the moment's popped like a deflated balloon.

"And what about you?" I say, leaning closer toward her face. "Accusing me of wearing the mask, but how about you, smiling and acting optimistic all the time?"

She begins to shake her head. "It's not―"

"Eura thinks you've given up on the Games."

At this, Annie's eyes widen. "Eura? What does Eura have to do w―"

"But see, the thing is, I don't think she's entirely right," I whisper. The elevator doors are about to shut and Annie reaches out a hand to stop them, but I grab her arm and pull her back into the elevator so that the doors close and we're standing stationary on the fourth floor. "See, I've thought about it, and the way you acted after our conversation last night and the way you reacted on the day of the reaping, and I think you're just scared."

She's quiet for a moment. "You think I'm scared?" she asks, almost incredulously.

"I think you're terrified," I say. "And I think this whole front you put forth about being all smiles and strength and calm is just a mask to conceal the fact that you're terrified of being part of that arena."

Her eyes narrow at me. "Am I really that readable?" She says, her voice acidic. "Think you can just read everything about me and know everything about me just because you're the wonderful and brilliant Finnick Odair?"

I lower my voice to a whisper. "It's okay to be scared, you know."

She laughs shortly. "You are the last person who should be giving me a lesson about wearing masks," she says, slapping the "open" button inside the elevator. The doors slide back to once again reveal the District 4 flat, and Annie steps off before turning back to me. "Let me make this easy for you; _I'll_ end this conversation, and you take this elevator somewhere far away so I don't have to see your face again until dinner."

"Sounds great to me," I say.

The doors begin to close, but not before I see Annie turn and walk out of sight. It's only when I'm completely alone that I lean back against the railing of the elevator and sigh.


	5. Chapter Five: Implications

Say what you want about the Capitol, but there's no denying that they know how to make good food. My stomach is gurgling in protest the second a savory whiff of dinner reaches my nostrils. When we are all called to take our seats, I don't rush when browsing the extravagant presentation on the dining table. Some sort of roasted bird makes a garnished center piece, and countless bowls surrounding it are filled with foods ranging from peaches and cream to seasoned vegetables. Members of District 4, victors especially, always make off well with food, but even we don't get meals quite like this.

Before I can inhale the whole dinner table, Mags rests a hand on my shoulder to let me know that the others are beginning to sit down. I notice her staring across the room and I follow her gaze to see an exhausted-looking Annie quietly entering and taking her seat. Mags squeezes my shoulder once, and I wonder once again just how obvious I was being at last night's dinner with my so-called "fascination."

I try to catch Annie's eye to no avail. I don't even know why I desire her acknowledgement so much; just seeing her awakens some stale, underlying anger and frustration from our earlier confrontation, but I might as well admit there's also a feeling of relief. Even when we can't stand to look at one another, there's an aura of calm that comes with her close presence. The thought is sickening, considering our situation.

Annie hasn't so much as breathed the same air as me since the argument earlier. After the elevator door shut and I was alone, I decided to aimlessly stroll the hallways of the Training Center lobby away from the cameras. It was only later that I came to my senses and realized that the District 4 flat is huge with separate rooms, and that there was no real need for me to avoid the whole floor just because Annie couldn't bear to see my face. How Eura would laugh to hear that a mentor was taking orders from a tribute in the first place.

The District 4 victors and prep teams are chatty as usual during the first half of dinner. Eura seems too intrigued with her mixed vegetables to hold conversation and Annie sits politely yet silently with her food untouched. I'm pretty sure Drift is shooting daggers at me with his eyes, but I don't care enough to check for sure.

"...why, just ask Finnick!"

The sound of my name snaps me to attention. Drift's designer, the one who seemingly had glitter injected into the surface of her skin, waves at me from the other end of the table. At my look of confusion, she says in her shrill voice, "We were just talking about those from 1, 2 and 4 who train in the academies for the Games! You were one of them, were you not?"

"Uh, yes, yes I was," I answer. I feel Annie's eyes on me. " I didn't volunteer, though; most kids wait 'til age seventeen or eighteen before deciding to do that. I was reaped the old fashioned way, and I guess none of the big guys that year were up to taking the reins."

This earns a couple laughs from around the table, though I'm not entirely sure why.

"My, it was just a stroke of luck for you, then," the designer says with hands clasped together. "Such greatness you've come to have, becoming the youngest victor in all of Panem history!"

I try to hold back a snort of laughter. A stroke of luck isn't exactly what I'd call being reaped at age fourteen, especially when I was far from being convinced to one day volunteer. Most who train in the academies never do; often we grow up to discover that our heart just isn't in the competition. To volunteer you need to have a distinguished thirst for blood.

"Oh, but that must have been so hard," says the Capitol woman seated next to the designer. The intricate neon butterfly tattooed smack in the middle of her face is terribly distracting. "Leaving home so much sooner than you expected, knowing that no one else your age had ever won the Games. Even with such excellent skill, that must have been difficult."

"Oh, it was," I say mid-chew, trying to match the woman's nonchalant manner. But then I look again at Annie watching me from across the table, and I'm drawn back to the moment I said goodbye to my father after the reaping and to the moment when I hugged Mags before the launch thinking I might never see her again.

"But despite the odds, I knew I needed to try my best to win," I continue, more solemn and quiet as I look down the table. "Because I had people counting on me to return, and to lose confidence or succumb to fear before even trying...you can't do that to the people you know."

I dare look at Annie out of the corner of my eye, and I see her mouth pressed in a tight line. She pushes a piece of hair behind her ear before our eyes meet and lock. Suddenly nobody else is there but the two of us, me becoming lost in Annie's dark green eyes and endless array of freckles. "You just can't do that to the people who care about you."

"And so many people who cared about you, there were!" the Capitol woman shrieks with a high pitched laugh, shattering our eye contact but not before I notice Annie's cheeks flush pink. "Here we are, five years past your Games and the people of the Capitol _still_can't get enough of you!"

The prep teams join in collective snickers, holding up and clinking their glasses in what can only be an ode to my long string of love affairs. How fun it must be for them to gossip about my love life, to whisper about the times I've been caught sneaking away with Capitol women on Capitol TV. They must say I deserve it, being the shining star I am. I'm about to fake a half smile for the sake of appearances, but I then stop myself. A sudden flash of hot anger comes over me.

"I suppose they really can't get enough, can they?" The words tumbling out of my mouth sound grim and poisonous. "Lucky me."

The whole table falls silent and I lift my drink casually to my mouth while mentally cursing myself. That was stupid, really stupid. To my left the Capitol prep team members look as puzzled as a wide-eyed toddler that's fallen and can't piece together what just happened. Then suddenly, a giggle bubbles up from one of them, the one with the glittery skin, and the rest of them follow soon after. I haven't the slightest idea what's so funny, but Capitol citizens tend to be idiots anyway so I decide to go along with it and flash a smile.

It's not too long after that the other victors return to normal conversation, all except for Eura and Mags who look at me oddly. Annie is once again doing a visual dissection of my face, her eyes narrow and almost sad like she's determined to uncover the meaning of everything I say and do. I return her stare with a casual half smile, and in that moment I wish I could communicate with her telepathically, or at least see what's inside her head for just a moment. Eventually she bites her lip before picking up her fork to begin eating her untouched plate of food.

A half hour after everyone has left dinner, there's a light knock on my bedroom door. When I open it to see Annie standing there with her hands clasped in front of her and a small smile on her face, I can't stop myself from breaking into a grin. I feel as though I've been holding in a deep breath that I can only now exhale. Annie's talking to me again.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," she says back, her voice slightly breathy. Her shifting eyes tell me that something is bothering her, and from behind her I can hear the echoes of other voices from the lounge.

"Come on in," I say, sidestepping out of the doorway and waving her inside my bedroom. She pauses momentarily before rushing past me, and the moment I shut the door she turns.

"Is it bad?" she asks in a rush, rearranging her clasped hands and looking at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I walk closer to her, confused by her words and stance.

"What you said at dinner. About the Capitol. I don't know exactly what you meant – well, I might know what you meant but I don't know for sure—"

"Annie—"

"But I could tell that for some reason you weren't supposed to say what you did. I don't know why, but I could see in your face that you messed up. I just want to know, is it bad that you said what you did, like can it get someone in trouble if word got around...?" She takes a deep breath when her sentence tampers off into a question.

"Annie," I say, walking close enough to her now that I could lean out and touch her. I can tell I've upset her, and I curse myself mentally once again. "I promise nothing I say or do is going to get you in trouble or hinder your chances in that arena. I'd never let that happen."

"What?" Her concerned expression breaks and she gives me a strange puzzled look, her eyebrows drawn together like she can't make sense of what I've said. The turning wheels behind her eyes are practically visible as she registers my words. "No, no," she says suddenly, waving her hand to dismiss my words. "I know that. I'm fine. I want to know if _you're_going to be okay."

"_Me?_"

"Yes, you!" she says impatiently as her cheeks begin to redden. "There's cameras and gossip and stuff, and I'm not sure what kind of hole you've dug yourself into."

I stand there and silently stare at her, Annie Cresta, my tribute who is going to enter the arena in just shy of three days, and I register that out of this whole mess the one thing on her mind is my wellbeing after making a mindless slip at dinner.

Before I can stop myself, I begin to laugh. It starts as an incredulous chuckle and quickly progresses to the point where I'm almost doubled over laughing.

"What? What is it?" she asks, looking slightly peeved with my sudden outburst.

"It... it's nothing..." I say, trying to find my voice in between my laughter. I can't even remember the last time I've laughed, let alone this hard. "It's just... if the Peacekeepers show up to drag me away, I'll be sure to contact you about it first."

She shoves me, but in a way that's not really meant to hurt. "That's not funny!" she says, her quivering mouth set in a thin line and her arms crossed.

"Aww," I say teasingly, my grin spanning across my entire face. "Careful, Cresta, or I'll start to think that you actually care about me."

"Oh, shut up." She rolls her eyes, but the tiniest of smiles sneaks its way out of her mouth. "Don't act like I didn't see the way you were staring at me at dinner, Odair."

"I recall no such thing."

"Sure you don't." Suddenly Annie turns and skips over to my bed before sprawling out on top of the covers. She hugs a silk purple pillow close to her chest and multiple messy strands of dark hair fall across her face. "I'm sure you also don't recall the way you insinuated that _you_ care about _me_, huh? I may have been ignoring you, but I'm not completely oblivious."

For a moment I only stare at her as she moves her legs across the sheets as if making a snow angel, and I feel beside myself at the fact that a person like Annie Cresta exists. Finally, someone who treats me neither like a promiscuous god nor a broken piece of china, someone who can challenge me and keep up with me and understand me, someone who genuinely cares about me without fully knowing who I am. For a second, all thoughts of the Games and the possibility of Annie's death melt from my mind, and I feel those same walls I tried hastily rebuilding earlier coming down once again.

She turns over onto her stomach suddenly and looks at me thoughtfully with her chin in her hand.

"Aw, won't you look at that," she says with a smile. "Finnick Odair is blushing."

"I am _not_ blushing." I walk over and take a seat next to her on the bed.

"Apology accepted, by the way," she says, sitting up so that we are at eye level and her face is only inches from mine. My pulse picks up speed, which is ridiculous because I've been this close to a countless number of strangers in my company. Something about this is different, though. It's difficult not to be come lost in the light flecks of her eyes. "You know, for our argument earlier."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's funny, I don't remember apologizing."

"Oh, but you were going to," she says in a sing-song voice.

I can only laugh in response, which makes two times that Annie's made me laugh in one day. She laughs, too, and it's a truly beautiful laugh, and we both look at each other as the laughter soon dies and fades to silence.

"So you'll really be okay?" she whispers, looking up at me through her dark eyelashes. It's the same look she gave me when we trained in the lounge yesterday, the nervous and wistful expression that made me want to comfort her.

"Don't worry about me. It's gone over everyone's heads by this point, and it really isn't a big deal anyway." Well, it's mostly true. I need to take precaution in the future to not slip up again, and at least in this case, I didn't necessarily say anything _wrong_; it was all in the suggestion of my words. The Capitol freaks have obviously forgotten it, and Snow likely is too busy with the Games to watch a live feed of my every move. Still, the cameras are always something to be wary of, even the cameras in this very room. If only I could find a way to escape for a bit...

"Well, that's good." Annie sighs. "I suppose I owe you a bit of an explanation myself. You know, in regards to our earlier... conversation."

"You owe me nothing." The words fall out of my mouth without thought, and I avoid Annie's eyes. "Let's just make sure you win in that arena, alright?"

"I definitely owe you more than nothing," she says in a whisper, completely ignoring my question.

We sit there in silence as I think over her words, and suddenly the hidden cameras and the constrictions of the room are both suffocating.

"I'm the one who owes you an explanation, but here isn't the right place for it. Do you want to get out of here?" I say suddenly, standing up from the bed and looking down at Annie.

She snorts a laugh. "What's here? This bedroom? We are stuck in this building, remember? There's practically nowhere to go."

"Maybe, maybe not. I happen to be familiar with the area, and I think I know a place we can go." I extend my open hand down toward her with a smile. "You just gotta trust me."

Before I even finish my sentence, Annie stands and takes my hand in hers. Her palm is warm and soft, not chalked up with rough calluses and scars like mine. In a way, it's like they were made to be a perfectly opposite match.

"I trust you," she says quietly with a squeeze of my hand, and not even her teasing smile can hide the darkening blush on her face. "Now lead the way."


End file.
